


The Best Boss

by forgetmenotjimmy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Depression, Episode s03e24, Gaslighting, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mention of Tritter Arc, Mention of Vogler Arc, Rape Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 07:08:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20653184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forgetmenotjimmy/pseuds/forgetmenotjimmy
Summary: Working for House means long hours, ritual humiliation and a low-level anxiety which followed you everywhere. Despite that, the curmudgeonly doctor has never laid a finger on him, which officially makes him the best boss Chase has ever had. Chase struggles to navigate all the threats to his fellowship with House: Vogler, Tritter and himself.





	The Best Boss

Contrary to popular belief, it had actually been pretty difficult for Chase to get the fellowship with House. Yes, his father had called and House could have had any number of whimsical reasons to hire him, but just finding and applying for the position had cost Chase so much. Before, he’d been constantly exhausted and on edge. Before, he’d been terrified of going into work but more terrified of not going. Before, the idea of having another boss who could crush his spirit made him sick and edgy and _panicky_ was the worst thing Chase could imagine.

Dr. Darren Matthews was the nicest, most genuine man anyone who knew him could name. He was the Head of Cardiology at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. A loving husband and doting father of two young children, he had a way with patients and received the most thank you gifts from them. Charity runs, being on the transplant committee, mentoring high school kids interested in medicine... He was the perfect man.

He was also raping his residents. Not all of them. Just the ones he knew he could keep quiet. Whilst a hospital never really slept, there were always places you could count on being undisturbed for about 20 long, nauseating minutes.

The second time had been the worst, at least for Chase. It would forever be etched on his memory. The first time, he’d gone into a kind of shock, uncomprehending of what was happening to him. He’d been sickened and shocked and desperate to forget it. But the next time, he’d realized with a swoop of terrible certainty that it wouldn’t just be one horrifying encounter. This was going to keep happening.

Chase had had ill-advised sex before, usually when drunk or high, both with people his own age and older people he retroactively realized had been taking advantage of his relative youth.

After his mother had died, he’d gone off the rails in a big way for a few months. It was only when he’d OD’d under a bridge that he’d had the realization that he needed to change his life. Turning back to his childhood, he tried a path to salvation through God. When the seminary hadn’t provided all the answers and he’d gone back to school, he’d been too focused on getting into medical school – maybe then his father would talk to him again – to go out partying or sleeping around.

Dr. Matthews was his mentor, his guide in the world of real-life medicine, but he ended up teaching Chase far more about how dark people can be, how insidious the urge to control people can get, how alone he really was. Chase had been alone for a long time; he’d thought that he’d made peace with it, that he could survive perfectly well without a loving family or close friends to relate his every thought to. Then he really needed support and cursed the God he couldn’t trust. The nuns were wrong; Jesus wasn’t always there for you. No one was, ever.

…

Somehow, Chase lasted all of his residency. The end was near and completely ignoring the positions available in Melbourne, Chase had cast his net out to Europe and America. Anywhere that was outside of his father’s circle of influence. Any hospital where no one had ever heard of Dr. Matthews. One ad in particular caught his eye. An opening for a fellowship with Dr. House. A world-renowned infectious disease specialist and now diagnostician, House was also well known for his bad manners and almost misanthropist ways. Surely someone who everyone knew was a bastard couldn’t get away with terrible things in the way Matthews did, Chase reasoned to himself. In any case, he had enough savings to buy a ticket to America and go to the interview.

He thought that it had been a disaster: Dr. House, clearly uninterested in actually conducting a serious interview and seemingly forced into the charade by his boss, was trying to annoy or amuse the other doctor present – a dangerously pleasant Dr. Wilson. Things seemed to become even worse when Dr. Wilson was paged so he made his excuses, warning House to ‘behave’ as he left. Dr. House shrugged, legs still propped up on the desk, but his eyes narrowed on Chase.

“Why don’t you like Wilson?” He asked suddenly. Chase’s mouth dropped open a little. He’d heard that House was a medical genius, but apparently his laser focus didn’t just apply to patient’s bodies. Chase cleared his throat and tried to deflect the question.

“I don’t know him.” House rolled his eyes before explaining.

“He makes you uncomfortable. You tensed him when he moved and you’re more relaxed now.” To his surprise, Chase realized the House was right. He swallowed and carefully considered how much to reveal. What did it matter if a random American doctor knew more about him than his own father? He’d probably take the job in the UK anyway.

“He seems nice.” House passed the ball he was holding between his hands as he ventured flatly.

“And you hate nice people; they make you feel bad for being an asshole.”

“I don’t trust them.” House took his legs off the desk and leaned in, studying Chase’s face intently. Chase felt his anxiety kick up but forced himself still, forced himself to look back. Whatever House saw, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he sat back and said casually.

“You got a VISA?”

“Only if you give me the position.” House nodded and then picked up his phone, dialing an internal number.

“Cuddy, sending my new fellow to you, the blond surfer dude from Down Under. Yeah, yep, okay.” He hung up and sent Chase a faux-cheery grin.

“Welcome aboard, guvnor.” Chase didn’t correct him, merely nodded and walked out in a daze.

…

So yeah, Chase betrayed House to keep his job. If House had fired him then he would have needed to find another job, he would have needed to trust someone new. House had hurt him in as many ways as you could with words, but never with his hands. That was enough to make Chase desperate to stay on. House could be cruel and petty and a slave-driver, but he was honest. Painfully so. He humiliated and put down Chase time and time again, but it was public. The shame, somehow, was less. The burns were superficial and never reached his soul. He was as alone as ever, but not when House was ripping into him, there were other victims to commiserate with.

Plus, the more Chase acted like he didn’t care, the easier he could handle the knocks. He had something good and guarded his position jealously. Seeing people come and go gave him a sense of satisfaction and security he ever hadn’t known before. House obviously saw through his crafted nonchalance but didn’t often call him on it, so he coasted, finally comfortable.

House was by far the best boss Chase had ever had. Getting this fellowship had been the best thing that had ever happened to him. He knew how pathetic that made him. But it was still true.

…

Tritter stalked into their lives and rocked the boat again. Whilst Chase hadn’t been naïve enough to believe that House had forgiven him for the Vogler incident, it had at least been pushed to the back of everyone’s minds. Life had gone on, things had settled down, returned to normal. But the paranoia and strain of Tritter’s investigation dug it all up again, leaving Chase despairing at the realization that it would always be that way. He was forever stained with his past sin. There was no redemption.

Suddenly, he was collapsing onto the floor of Reception, jaw stinging and world spinning. He sucked in a surprised breath and his hand automatically went to his face. House had punched him. House had _punched _him. Shakily, he explained why the liver was shutting down and registered somewhere in his brain that House had left his field of vision. He looked up and saw him on the phone at the nurses’ station. Responsibility to the little girl ended, the shock started to wear off and his jaw started aching fiercely. One of the nurses was crouching next to him.

“Are you alright?” He nodded slowly, one thought running through his head: _I got it right_!

He was strung out. So goddamn _tired._ He told Wilson that he was done waiting. It was perhaps the most truthful thing he’d ever said. His head felt the clearest it had been in a while. Damned if he left House and chanced being raped by another monster masquerading as a great guy and damned if he stayed and continued to take House’s abuse.

After the numbness faded, he was just left with despair. It was familiar and comforting in a way. He went home, curled up on the couch and stared blankly at his television, the white noise matching the blankness in his head. His senses were dulled, movements sluggish and brain slow. It was easier to pretend, to play his part when he stopped caring. He’d hit this point in his residency under Matthews, after he’d realized that no one would believe him if he told. Whispers haunted him when he was alone: in the lab, in his car, at home.

_How can I resist you? You were made for this. That’s right, just stay there and let me lo-_

The cases became the only thing that engaged him. The puzzles distracted him from the emptiness draining all the fear and hurt out of him. If patients or their loved ones needed reassurances or hope, he’d give it out to him, but he’d stopped believing it. He just focused on the mysteries and figuring out all the wonderful ways the human body could fail. Ironically, he was becoming more like one of his abusive mentors. Better House than Matthews, he supposed.

…

Life marched relentlessly on, as it always did. Then two days before Foreman was due to leave, he was fired. Just like that. A faint hope that it was a joke was quashed by that solemn expression he only saw occasionally. When things were really bad, when people were dying even though the mystery was solved. More, House looked almost sorry. Which meant that he was serious. Despite many people’s assumptions, he could be sincere. It was just rare.

Chase hadn’t thought when he’d had the outburst. He’d just lost control; sick of seeing House flailing in his attempts to keep Foreman when he’d never bother if it was Chase. It wasn’t fair. Chase had stayed even after House had punched him in the _face_. And yet Foreman was waltzing out and dragging House across the floor without a care in the world. So he’d snapped and now he was standing there, in the room so familiar he could name every object in it from memory, being told his worst fear was coming true.

Instead of the desperate pleas that he would have expected from the order, Chase found himself saying:

“Fine.”

He toyed with the idea of just leaving. Just walking out of the door and never looking back. But he knew that House wouldn’t bother thinking about things like severance pay. Dr. Cuddy didn’t believe him at first, pausing to try and suss out the joke. She’d promised to fix it, and whilst Chase appreciated that someone didn’t want him gone, he knew she wouldn’t have any luck.

He collected his things mechanically and said goodbye to Foreman and Cameron. Sort of. His heart had shriveled up a long time ago so it was more a professional courtesy. In case he saw them at conventions or talks later and didn’t want things to be awkward.

He was sitting in his car in the hospital parking lot, not having gotten up the courage to start the engine and drive away, when House called. Heart racing, he fumbled for the phone. It was awkwardly positioned in his jean pocket so he declined the call whilst trying to get it out. Taking a few deep breaths, he listened to the message. Already knowing it wasn’t a veiled plea to come back, Chase rang back anyway, pondering the mystery. Had Cameron and Foreman rebelled and left as well?

“The PET scan shows a blood clot in her arm.” He responded automatically, not even pausing to consider why House was asking him and not his current employees.

“You are indispensable.” Sarcasm, so heavy it felt like it was crawling out of the phone and into his ear. Someone else must be in the room with him. Probably Dr. Cuddy if her promise had been sincere. “You’re still fired. Sorry.” The line went dead and he lowered the phone from his ear slowly.

Instead of going home he drove into town. There was a bar he sometimes went to, but it was too early to start drinking. He ended up at a diner. As he sat there, he thought about what he wanted to order. Did he want a tuna on rye, a burger, or something else? Options. He had options now.

Before, he had been terrified of the thought of finding a new job, a new boss. Paralyzed by the idea of having to trust someone new, finding someone who made him feel as safe as House. But the anxiety never came. He kept on breathing and realized that the world hadn’t in fact ended. He hadn’t died. So he would have to be careful, he knew how to do that. He was wiser now, knew how to spot the signs. The first sign of trouble, he could invent an excuse and bail. His father was dead so he could return to Australia without fear of interference from the old coot. Yes, he’d have to be careful to avoid Matthews, but it wasn’t impossible.

Once again, House had saved him, in a way. This time, instead of stability and security, he’d pushed him out of the nest and shown him that he’d grown without even knowing it. He had spent enough time healing, enough time learning to trust people to not force themselves on him, that he could go out unafraid.

By the time Cameron popped up out of nowhere, he had reached a kind of Zen. The world hadn’t ended. He was alive. Part of him hoped that House knew a little of what he’d done for him; because he sure wasn’t ever going to tell him.

Cameron left and he shrugged, finishing his sandwich.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Unbeta'd so let me know if you spot any errors.  
:D


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